SummerFire
by Aunty Proton
Summary: OwlDance passes his Master's trials, and gains not only his Master's Sigil but a very special reward.


"Reward?"

"Yes."

OwlDance glared from behind tangled, grimy black hair at his fellow Night Elf. Like night and day, his body streaked with dirt and wearing only the rough-stitched pants of raw leather, the stone knife in its sheathe at his waist. The other was moon-pale, fantastically and impeccably dressed in blood-red silks and intricately-tooled black suede, with a thick fall of red-blonde hair that fell in a fireflood down his back.

OwlDance snorted in contempt and turned away. "So now Ravenholdt deals in the trafficking of Elune's children? I've lost my last faith in them so this is no surprise. I want no reward save to be left alone."

"To go sit in a tree and lick your wounds?" the other's voice lilted after him.

"First to wash, so that I can bear to be in the same room with myself. Second, to return home to Stormwind. Third, to stay far away from anything that smells of Ravenholdt," OwlDance snarled back as he padded away.

He was halfway to the stream he'd glimpsed on his approach to the Manor when he heard soft footsteps on the faint game trail behind him. He ignored it as he followed the stream a hundred feet further on until it widened into a pool. Then without ceremony he loosened the ties of the pants and let them fall onto the stream bank, and naked once more he carefully lowered himself into the water. It was icy cold on his still-healing wounds.

There was a rustling on the riverbank. He didn't turn to look, hoping if he ignored the other he'd go away.

"You know, you'd get a lot cleaner with some soap."

"So say the Humans - " He startled and nearly fell as a burning heat suddenly plastered itself all along his back, and strong pale-skinned arms slipped around his chest and held him fast.

"A washing cloth helps too," the other purred against the back of his neck. "They do have some useful ideas, the Humans."

Owl stiffened in shock. "Be certain of what you do, Mage."

A chuckle against his neck. "I am certain. I've observed you for many days, at Fahrad's request. And I am not a Mage, I am a Shaman. I am a healer of many things, and as you have many hurts I see much work here to occupy me."

"A healer?"

"Mm-hmm. Trained by our good friends the Draenei. My name is SummerFire." A hot hand began to travel in a caress down Owl's bare stomach and he tensed. "And you may pretend you are not interested all you wish, and hold onto your anger and your righteous indignation. I will still bend you over that rock across the way and fill you to my heart's content, as many times as I wish. For now, and for however long you wish, I am yours. And you are mine."

-O-O-

Night had fallen unnoticed save that when next Owl was conscious of anything save bliss and completion he realized he was somehow clean and dry, and laying in SummerFire's arms on a soft bed in the dark.

He was hoarse from screaming out his ecstasy, and tear tracks of silent rejoicing had long been dried on his face. And he hurt, but not from his wounds that SummerFire had healed while they made love. This was a hurt he had always relished, the few chances he'd had to feel it.

SummerFire sighed out a deep breath into his hair. "You are a complicated man, Master OwlDance."

Owl huffed out a denying laugh. "Master. It's no title of mine."

"Yes it most certainly is. You've earned it."

Owl squirmed a little and SummerFire sent a hand through his hair, summoning calmness.

"I have no wish to be other than my Master's apprentice til the day I die for the last time," Owl murmured. "To stand at his side in the face of the Horde, to care for him and for Anca his wife and my sister in soul, and to cherish their children that will surely come."

"That they will. It is known in the halls of the Draenei that they share what we would call a soulbond," SummerFire said softly.

"It's not a soulbond. Their ancestors were machines made in the form of small men, such as they are now but mechanical in nature. They were changed to flesh because of a Curse. When they were machines the choice of who one would mate with was made on the basis of how well one machine suited another for the creation of offspring. After the Curse, it became a thing known as 'biocompatibility'. The greater that is, the more fitting the match between the two. Kill and Anca are almost a perfect match," Owl said wearily. "They are driven to mate by the biocompatibility. Gnomes do not have many children. Many times a pair never have children at all, despite a lifetime together. Geblin my uncle in soul tells me that Kill and Anca will have many children, because they are so close a match."

SummerFire was quiet for a long moment. "You are beloved of the Gnomish folk."

Owl shrugged a little. "My Master took me in when all of Teldrassil were against me, when my grandmother called me a pervert and an affront to Elune in front of the entire Circle. She disowned me and ordered me to leave and never return. It was only the intervention of Selandril that allowed me to return to claim my Frostsaber." He sat up suddenly. "Star. Where is he?"

"Not far. Southshore town. I asked my own saber Dawn to stay with him. She's quite taken with him." SummerFire's shimmering golden eyes smiled up at him. "He is well. He took no hurt when you were taken. I made certain of it."

Owl stayed tense for one more moment then lay back down. "I am leaving at first light. He must be frantic."

SummerFire chuckled and lay back in the pillows. "If you wish, but I suspect when you climb down the ladder you'll find him sitting down below with Dawn paying lavish attention to his ears and ruff. She's really rather a harlot when it comes to a handsome spotted ruff." He rolled over to face Owl and ghosted a hand down the Rogue's side and hip and flank. "We have the darkness now, and Elune herself overhead. Take your ease here, and forget for a while. You are safe here, with me."

The Rogue's exhaustion soon overcame him, and the Shaman lay a while watching the dark angular face in sleep.

"You are a mystery, Master Rogue," he whispered softly before he himself gave in to sleep.

-O-O-

"You made a grievous error," SummerFire said as the first gray light of sunrise began to break amidst the night's snow-borne fog. "Pitting OwlDance against Master Mechaswarm - had you any idea at all how loyal OwlDance is to him? How dependent he's been emotionally on Master Mechaswarm?"

"That was the point," Fahrad said out of the dark of the Manor's veranda. The GrandMaster Rogue turned and came back through the open door noiselessly, his Human face expressionless. "The boy has always been - "

"Boy! Yesterday you fling the title 'Master' in his face and now you call him a boy!" SummerFire spat. "Master Mechaswarm may call him that because he is all but OwlDance's father and Owl knows in his heart of hearts it is meant as affection. You may not, Fahrad. Not even when he is not present to hear it. He is old enough and skilled enough to have earned that title of Master. You would not so belittle anyone else to whom you gave that accolade."

Fahrad's expression turned stony. "The point was, OwlDance has always been emotionally dependent on Kill. That can't be allowed to continue if he's to be an effective operative. The test was to determine if he was capable of ignoring that tie to Kill when he is ordered to do so."

"Oh, so instead of giving them a goal to achieve and arranging for Master Mechaswarm to be threatened so that Owl must decide between the goal or his Master, you simply order him to attack the one person in Azeroth he trusts!" SummerFire snapped.

Fahrad glared at him. "The life of a Rogue is not a traipse in the woods like it is for you Shaman. We're a hard lot. I've almost told Kill to cut the boy loose half a dozen times because of his unsuitability."

"And you did not so why?"

Fahrad's face twisted in faint disgust. "Kill always convinced me the leatherworking and cooking made a great cover."

"And so it does." SummerFire paced the length of the room then whirled back and pinned the GrandMaster with a laser-like glare. "At any time has he ever refused an order?"

Fahrad went back to his chair before the fire. "No. Usually it's Kill refuses for him."

"And at any of those times for any but solid reasons?" SummerFire asked.

Fahrad scowled but answered. "He usually just offers to send Leonydus or Zachius instead. Never gives a reason. But that's Kill for you."

"But the assignments they do take are performed to your satisfaction?" SummerFire persisted.

Fahrad glared into the fire. "Yes."

"He fought to your standards throughout the test here, did he not?" SummerFire went on.

"He and Kill are a well-matched team," Fahrad allowed. "For all the size difference they fight as well together as any two seasoned Rogues would. Kill's taught him that unconventional approach he has. We had to make adjustments in the training for Kill, he's done the same in his training of the boy."

"Owl simply throwing Master Mechaswarm over the wall was certainly unorthodox," SummerFire allowed. "I gather that's how they often work together."

"Yes."

"Then why this asinine insistence that the fight be to the death between them?" SummerFire demanded. "Master Mechaswarm is a proven operative with more than twenty years of assignments to his credit, Owl himself is already a valuable asset, why risk either one of them and their spiritual and emotional well-being by turning them against each other?"

"I had my reasons," Fahrad said flatly.

"And I think you underestimate him," SummerFire snapped back. "And you could have driven him away entirely, and right into the arms of the Syndicate. That he is not now offering his services and his loyalty to them is entirely because of his love and trust of Master Mechaswarm. Were I you, I would not cross or harm anything to do with Master and Lady Mechaswarm and the High Tinker Geblin nor the Gnomish folk in any way for many years to come. Or I should think you would soon learn to your fleeting regret just how skilled OwlDance is."

Fahrad scowled again at that. "Has he got you so twisted around his finger already, Shaman?"

SummerFire smirked. "It was your idea that I offer myself to him. He twigged right off that you were attempting to secure his loyalty with sex. He could easily have refused me, and wanted to. He has become accustomed to being alone, and expected to be so for the rest of his life. Fortunately, I believe I can convince him otherwise. And once I do, I intend for no power save Elune herself to separate us."

-O-O-

"You are shameless," SummerFire whispered loudly as he hurried back to the great tree that held his small tree-dwelling on the Ravenholdt lands. His golden Frostsaber, Dawn, was giving little purring grumbles as she contentedly nuzzled and licked the cheek-ruffs of a great spotted white Frostsaber. Star seemed to wear an expression of vast condescension, as if saying, "Oh all right, if you must, you may lick my face until it's soggy."

The great white Frostsaber's head swung around, the golden eyes frighteningly intelligent as he watched the Shaman approach.

"He's asleep," SummerFire whispered as he went around the two and reached for the rope ladder. "Let him stay so. And don't tell him I snuck away."

"He already did," OwlDance's voice drifted down from above. "I woke when you left."

SummerFire climbed easily into the trapdoor of his dwelling and pulled it closed behind him. "I went to impress upon Fahrad that you are not to be trifled with. That- That- Human is so insensitive - so emotionally stunted - bah! He makes me incoherent with rage."

OwlDance still lounged naked on the bed, the thick linen coverlet tangled around his legs. He regarded SummerFire with an unreadable expression. SummerFire made himself comfortable on the floor and let himself feast his eyes on the dark god currently occupying his bed.

After a moment the glowing silver eyes dropped and one long-fingered hand picked at the linen distractedly. "I have never heard the name SummerFire. Not as a Shaman, nor as a... well. My grandmother favored the word 'pervert'."

"She might have misheard our good friends of the blue skin and tail persuasion," SummerFire said with a delicate shrug. "For they name such as we 'Inverts', and consider such as we to be an ingenious and elegant genetic solution to the problems of overpopulation."

"So my friends Jevalyn and Wasichu tell me," Owl said in a quiet voice.

"I come of Feralas," SummerFire said simply. "And you know how shameful subjects are never discussed among the children of Elune."

One corner of Owl's mouth pulled down into a frown. "As if we don't have enough to concern us with the Sindorei, the Burning Legion, and the Horde."

SummerFire nodded. "Just so."

"So when you were exiled - "

"I wasn't exiled. I left of my own will," SummerFire said. "Too many cooks - well, you know how that turns out. Too many Druids - I wonder sometimes why the trees aren't driven to drink. I did not have the temperament to become Druid. I am too chaotic. Much as I love them, I cannot put myself into the mind of a tree. There was a Draenei came through Feralas, a maker of crystals and metal. He told me of their ways and I left with him when he returned home. Much as you are to the Gnomish folk, so I am to the Draenei. They are a noble folk, serene, appalled at what the Exodar's crash did to Azuremyst, and determined to care for the lands and creatures they have disrupted. So I stayed, and they took me to their hearts and I them. It was they, and the thoughtfulness of my teachers, who unknoted whatever damage was done in Feralas."

OwlDance's face fell a little at that. "As Kill's acceptance did for me."

"Save that Master Mechaswarm is not a healer, yes. I do believe he saved you from a short and brutal life of suffering. He is remarkably observant and perceptive, but he simply does not have the expertise to undo all of it." SummerFire smiled a little. "Not a slight whatsoever on Master Mechaswarm, I assure you! But - you know - you would not be the person you are today if all the damage were undone."

OwlDance gave a near-silent humorless laugh at that. "No, I might be happier."

"Ha! Who's to say? You might be far more miserable," SummerFire countered. "You might never have left Teldrassil, and thus never met Master Mechaswarm, nor Lady Mechaswarm, nor any of those you now call friends and family. Would you give them up on the mere chance you might be happier elsewhere? A chance that is by no means assured?"

Owl sighed and dropped his head back on the pillow. "No."

"I do not like to say this because it is never what anyone wants to hear, but sometimes there is no healing to be done," SummerFire said quietly. "Sometimes the only thing you can do is try to forget, and let time blunt the pain. Endure, and wait for better days."

Owl shook his head a little on the pillow. "Or... shut down. Let numbness take you."

"It is a solution. It is not the best solution. But yes, even I know that sometimes it is the only option, and the least painful option, of many." SummerFire looked thoughtful. "I will not belittle whatever it took for you to survive. What concerns me - as your healer and as I hope the one you wish to abide with - what concerns me is the here and now. This is where the better days begin, and you must learn to feel again."

OwlDance shook his head again. "I already feel too much."

"And I'm sure you've told yourself innumerable times you must not, and forced yourself to hold it inside."

"Yes." Owl only flinched a little when he felt a soft, warm hand begin to gently stroke his leg.

"You have only suppressed it. It has not gone away. And now it's all crammed inside you, where it is either rotting and poisoning you or long past due to burst like an abcess. Neither, as you might guess, is healthy." SummerFire continued to caress the long muscular leg under his hand. "After a time, such suppression becomes reflex. One does it without thinking, without conscious willing. And because it is not conscious, you will have no idea how much suppressed fear, anger, frustration, grief and guilt are rotting inside you."

"Odd, that. I just feel empty most of the time," OwlDance husked out. "And everyone thinks me serene."

"Your Star knows better. As does Master Mechaswarm. And Lady Mechaswarm, I would suspect."

OwlDance spread out his arms and legs, stared up at the woven willow boughs of the ceiling. "Am I so transparant?"

"To them, yes. To those who love you," SummerFire answered. "Your friend Jevalyn probably knows as well. I have heard her name among my teachers. She is well loved among them."

"As well she should be." Owl closed his eyes as he heard SummerFire climb gracefully to his feet and begin to undo the ties of his clothing. "There have been times when she allowed me to put forth the illusion that I was pursuing her, to hide what I am. I even managed to fool Kill into believing it, until - well. Until."

"Until BloodThorn happened," SummerFire supplied. Owl opened his eyes again in surprise as the long, warm, pale weight settled gently on top of him like a blanket of sunlight. SummerFire's unbound hair spilled all around him like a flood of flame. "If I may suggest, if it is happiness you seek then do not put forth such illusions. Be who you are, whoever it might be. Never go so far as to convince yourself you are of the common run, and never ever go so far as to convince yourself to take a wife. It will be as a castle made of sand, and time the tide that dissolves it. It will never stand, and you both would be wretched."

"How did you know of - "

SummerFire smiled down into the silver eyes and put a finger over OwlDance's lips to silence him. "I know many things. Shall I show you?"

After that, they spoke no more.

-O-O-

A commotion woke the two of them a few hours later, with the sun streaming down through the willow boughs and a breeze off the mountain rustling the treetops.

"Elf-boy," came a rough-voiced call from below. "Call back your cat. I mean you no harm."

"Uhn. What is Kang doing here?" SummerFire murmured groggily.

"I don't know," Owl said as he rolled to lay the Shaman back in the pillows. "Stay. I will see to this."

He hurriedly pulled on the rough leather pants and opened the trap door. "Master Kang?"

The old Orc Rogue stood below, looking painfully up at the treehouse's door. Star and Dawn stood before him, their tails swishing nervously. The Orc had a large bag slung over his shoulder. "Elf-boy. Come down. I bring for you."

OwlDance peered at the old Rogue for a moment more, then swung down out of the treehouse's trap door and let himself drop to the ground. Star immediately turned and came to him, leaning against his rider as he sat beside him. Owl put an arm around the spotted white shoulders as the old Orc came closer.

Master Kang swung the bag off his shoulder and laid it down in front of the Elf.

"What's this, Master?" Owl asked.

"For you. Armor. Armor of Master," Kang said shortly. "And weapons. You come to house, we make tattoo."

Owl gave the old Master his thanks and watched as the old Orc hobbled out of sight back toward the Manor. Then he bent and picked up the bag, surprised at the unexpected weight, and turned to go back inside the treehouse.

-O-O-

"I don't understand. What is this?"

SummerFire knelt beside him, still naked, and gently stroked the fine, supple black leather armor. It was of a type he had never seen before. "How - This is too heavy to be simply leather."

OwlDance sat back on his heels. "It isn't. It's thick suede, with grapeseed chain weave between. You sew it with suede on front and back, with another layer of light wool cloth under the suede on the inside for padding. It keeps the chain from making noise as you move, but gives you the same protection as - oh, whatever the next guage of chain weave is."

"And not as heavy as thumbnail chain either," SummerFire added. "Can you make this kind of armor?"

Owl shook his head. "No. This is GrandMaster level expertise. And look at the embroidery. It's - it's stunning. I was simply going to replace what I had, but now..."

SummerFire slipped an arm around him and kissed one trembling shoulder. Then he spied a folded bit of parchment in the bag among the sheathes and scabbards of weapons, and plucked it out.

"Ah," he said with a smile as he deciphered the Common writing on the unfolded scrap. He leaned over and held it for Owl to read.

"From - oh Master! What have you done?"

"Spent some of the Gnomeregan treasury on his apprentice who has made him proud beyond words," SummerFire said with a smile. "He knows your worth, even if Fahrad never will."

"I - I don't know - what to say," Owl whispered, his fingers reverently stroking the beautiful black armor.

"I do," SummerFire said. "I say, let us go wash in the stream again. Then, you shall go to the Manor and allow Master Kang to make your Master's Sigil. Then we will dress in all our finery and ride back to Stormwind so that your friends and Master Mechaswarm may say to all they see, 'look, there is my friend, the Master Rogue'."

Owl laughed helplessly at that, and if there were tears that dripped onto the fine suede SummerFire didn't say a word.


End file.
